Odessa Kerrick
Oct 3, 2017 0:36:11 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Oct 3, 2017 0:36:11 GMT -5
PLAYER INFO
Name/Alias: Hex
IM/Email: PM to communicate
Age: Legal
Where did you find us?: Google
CHARACTER INFO
Name: Odessa K. Kerrick
Alias: Odi, Des, Dessy, 'Dessa
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Faction: Civilian
Original Occupation:
-Military Combat Engineer
-Military Engineer
Occupation/Specialization:
-Engineer/Tinkerer
-Junk-yard owner
-Pawn Shop operator
Appearance:
Most would find Odessa a man of unappealing features. Bland, normal, boring, sloppy and to that that fashion he is. A retired military man who has traveled the world and learned an incredibly relaxed attitude to the world. His hair is no longer as kept, the bed corners are never folded neatly, and off in the distance you can vaguely hear Drill Sergeants screaming.
The face is ever so dainty. Somehow upkept without any effort. The genetic lottery blessed this boy. While not absolutely handsome, there is a distinct lack of acne scarring or glasses that cause so many first world problems. He holds dark blue eyes with contrasting brown brow. His hair is kept in a wild, yet contained, shortened manner. No longer adhering to the buzz cuts of the years past, but could never really find himself in longer hair styles. It is a brown mess that many would be ashamed to have, but it suits him just fine with such a relaxed look. Two distinct features count for scars. A white line of scar tissue starts at the center of his bottom lip and edges ever so slightly towards the middle of his left jaw-line from a recoiling razor wire. The second being a chunk of missing right ear caught by a stray bullet.
His choice in apparel is likewise… bad. Usually sloppy. Not nasty kinds of sloppy, but the kind a child would like to wear to church. Sometimes camo, sometimes plaid, always cargo and usually an oil stained work-shirt to accompany. Only resorting to hardier clothes in the winter months and usually not even then. A lover of the cold, Odessa has a rather strong tolerance to the cold, note that as tolerance and not immunity. Drawing strange glances as he enters stores with a hoodie and shorts in three-inches of snow.
The form is standing strong at a meager six-foot-one-inch. Falling just past the finish line of what many considered the king of manlets. The rest of his fills out to what's easily stereotypical of the modern-mil-man. Low percent body fat with strong amounts of muscle and fairly identifiable lines if not “cut”. That image was always a nasty one, and far too much to maintain. He's more than content with just the teasing formation of a six-pack. Hes strong nonetheless, more than used to the twelve hour work days of constant movement. Compounded by moving materials all around the junkyard. The face is smooth even babyfaced in a manner. Betraying his age that he’s constantly asked for I.D. even as he approaches the dreaded Thirty. At least acne was never a problem.
His skin is clear and quite caucasian. Not the likes to instantly burn under the sun, he was born under the burning sun of the wet-soup south after all, but noticeably white. So much so someone could even make guesses about his dance moves from the look of it. Not one to be pocked with blemishes, but pocked with natural destruction of time. As in the seldom burn marks from a rogue acid splash or the bite of barbed wire without proper protection.
Altmode:
Change into a lazypieceofshit
History:
Born below the bible belt in the swamps of Louisiana. Odessa was born to two generous and loving thumping parents. Largely, his early childhood was uneventful. Never so much bullied, never so much starving or abused. He did had one odd quirk of a trait, He liked to ‘make’ things and ‘experiment’, in his words at least. Lego blocks were the bees knees. Random piles of wood were bliss. K’nex was the awesome. He wasn’t some prodigy or psion. Never once did he actually make anything worthwhile or useful. His little creations were that of the child’s rampant imagination. At least he knew his calling early in life.
For the most part this will be skimmed over until his eighteenth birthday. It was a joyous day, that moment where not twenty minutes before the kid had to raise their hand to go to the bathroom and now they're being asked what they want to do for the rest of their life. Odessa’s parents were smiling on their way to forcing him to go to college, but in this economy?! No, no, no amount of Best Buy wages or waiting tips could pay for everything! So he followed suit with many other illiterates of his time and picked up a rifle for the grunts. His idea was sound in the very least. Serve duty, get money, get edumakashuns, and hopefully come out a better man. The front lines never scared him. After all, dying was easy, that was the end. There were no more bills, no more need for food, and you got to party with Jesus, Allah, Buddha, whoever was there. All-in-all a rather good deal. No, he was afraid of surviving, more appropriately, surviving after being mangled. At the opposite end of the spectrum he neither wanted to be a desk jockey upwards of ten years.
So why not a mix? Something Elite! Not on the front lines and not behind a desk, all specialty. A lot easier to imagine. Odessa passed his evaluations rather gloriously. Scoring an eighty-seven on his ASVAB, even passing through Army Rangers tests with competence. Wasn’t enough however as many others did as well. Relegating him back to rank and file. Ok, second option! Combat Engineer!
If he couldn’t be elite, he could at least blow stuff up still. From Engineering schools he learned many arts of Engineering. The act of dismantling test-bombs reawakened that primal childhood of Odessa that came with the K’nex kits he’d receive through many Christmases. Foregoing the idea of joining the elite with the idea of making anything he could imagine. He took to the act of creation like a protoform to it’s first energon. Little did he know that his dreams weren't meant to be dreams on this path. Excitement overtook discipline as he pinned his name in for Mechanical Engineering classes, then boredom. Always held up with a “WHEN WE GONNA MAKE SHIT?” mentality that drop to desperation.
Still, he was wholly fulfilled in his desires, building traps and compiling anti-everything mines. Even getting rocks off through firefights. That wasn’t ideal, but luckily they were few and far between. Overall, most of his military time was spent Sapping and prorapping. He graduated through the ranks, ending at E-5 Sergeant through his first enlistment. His send enlistment came quick and easy to resign. Ending his tours less on the lines and more assisting with projects that courted his use of his engineering degree in designing weapons and vehicles. Gaining the next rank of E-6 soon after. Catching the eyes of the brass around him. Having gained their from his mechanical brilliance. The Colonel himself came down from his posh office to entice Odessa with the fabled O-1 that came with a few stipulations. Why not?!
Odessa was privy to knowing some things the rest of the world didn’t. He was chosen along with many others to apply their skills to a secret project, given appropriate top-secret clearance to go along with it. So damn secret that most of the personnel of it were kept in the dark on it. Strange that even with his new clearance that there were still few things he could be told. Even the project leaders only had slivers of knowledge. All they had to go off of was some giant slab of recovered metal with properties unknown to humankind.
Within the depths of some high security military installation, men in black suits dropped down a large slab of mystery metal with only one word, study. Why would just a hunk of metal get the brasses rocks off? Of well, they sign the checks. Might as well “study” it. It was an appropriate weight for it’s size. Audibly, hmm yes, very metal. Chemical treatment, wait what? The metal had reacted very strangely to chemical washes. Completely opposite of expected results. Grinders having no effect. What the hell did central send them? It wasn’t able to survive a plasma torch though. That's why there was so much hush hush about it. Upper echelon wanted to know what this metal was. This wasn’t human made and why it needed to be so secret, this was well outside the realm of current material science. It intrigued and amazed. Holding strange properties. This slab alone could’ve advanced human understanding by untold amounts. People came and went from the projected, shifted onto others, Odessa was one of the few kept long term on the project. Unfortunately all things must end and for some strange reason, the brass withdrew the metal, and the purpose to live. He was allowed to keep the rank of O-2 to keep his mouth shut at the least.
He was then re-injected back into the grunt-life. Ultimate sadness, no doubt one of the best paychecks every gotten and actually interesting work. Shame that he can't talk about it for the next twenty-five or so years. He tried to adapt as best he would back to the normal life , setting up barricades, dismantling explosives, mantling explosives, dying of boredom. Then the big hit, a DD 214. Reasoning being a lack of funding, yeah sure ok fine thats cool whatever.
The future beyond was still somewhat bright. Having the equivalent of a Bachelor’s in Mechanical engineering allowed ease of access to slide into most Universities along with proper G.I. bill greasing the wheels. College life was hard to adjust to. Sitting around these classes with the babies. Careful, step lightly or you might hurt someone. Then there was the party life. Oh god did Odessa ever unwind. Difficult at first, but usually becoming the life of the party after a few Jaeger bombs. The years of military servitude washed away through an ethical cleansing of the lords liquor, Hallelujah, blessed be his name, Saint Hein. A strong mind allowed the indoctrination of military cadence to erode away over the following years. He graduated by testing-out of inane classes and breezing through more advanced ones. He was inspired to succeed now after all. Taking as much of a class load as he could without fracturing the mind.
He graduated with masters in Mechanical, minor in Chemical, moderate class loads of Material. Of course that all goes to shit when you end up running a Junkyard with attached Pawn Shop doesn’t it!?
Personality:
How happy the MEPS test would’ve loved this information. So much easier to know someone than taking a battery of test. Perhaps wouldn't had let the firecracker of Odessa anywhere close to the explosives.
He is brash, headstrong, unrelenting, an asshole, and yet your best friend.
Through his brashness, he sharpens horns with which to ram things with. He is a largely individualistic individual or rather that he came into his own. Contrary to what was beaten into his head in bootcamp to always look to your brothers and sisters. Leaving the rank and file allowed him to spread his wings. He came to find his own personality becoming stronger over time and thusly found himself as his own being. This gives him a strong sense of self and likewise, strong self-esteem. It has been reinforced in the nature of conflict with those around him. As he grew to become his own, many around him have tried to give their a piece of their mind. Leading to a bucking of ideals as he stood up for his own. Naturally this conflicted with the police. Luckily he’d have much experience being with M.P.s so the pride can easily be swallowed. No matter how bitter it is.
Pride can be both a boon in small amounts. Odessa swells with a hardened pride in himself from his accomplishments. His pride revolves along a spectrum of what he’s done more than himself in general. So that it while he comes off as an asshole sometimes, he thoroughly doesn’t mean it. It’ll slip somewhat into
At the opposite is a serene calmness. Strange. Then again when you have to pacify yourself for hours a day doing nothing the options are to occupy yourself or learn to live with it. The capability of being able to just live in silence with yourself is a skill not many have, but one born out of necessity. Who knows how many Grunt lives would’ve been lost over the sheer amount of monotony. Still, he appears as a chilled man with a short fuze.
Always excitable, Odessa exists with a short fuze that seeks out the thrills that come attached with life. In so he is insatiable. Eager to find out the next best thing whether it be personal excitement or his desire to create something he's had his mind on for a while. He is quick to tunnel in on what interests him. Attacking it with bull ferocity. He is unrelenting to the point of insanity. Gained while on active duty and either a specific activity to occupy the self, or watching paint dry.
But he is not stupid. While not exactly one to think too far into the future of his actions he is one to know when to back down. To know when to cut the losses and make a run for it. As few and far between these moments are, it's usually only in the face of danger, as the seesaw of pride versus common sense is weighed against with a 10 ton slab.
Keep the liquor away. There is a party animal chained away before several bottles of Jaeger. Combined with his easily excitable persona and desire to seek it, Odessa can quickly become the life of a party.
Is there was any picture to ever thoroughly capture Odessa’s essence, that would be easily:
i.imgur.com/ixqw8Hg.png
Likes:
-His job: His method of work puts him in quiet positions with relatively low overhead, a solid, but not necessarily good paycheck, and low social interaction. Needless to say, it makes everyday a quiet day.
-Video games: Good ole’ PC master-race to unwind at the end of the day.
-Creation: Tinkering away at anything new. Push the letter of science! No officer, thats not a singularity under that tarp! Creation encompasses such a wide term, but mainly his method of creation boils down to two things. The purest of sciences that we understand to coincide with the term “creation”, and secondly using scraps to build little scrap metal arts. Such as a tiny tin man or a little dog. Just one of the ways to bide the attention span.
-Adrenal Junkie: generally the ignition to his excitable personality. Odessa sets out to get his gears pumping and that engine revving. Nothing is off limits, no science to undefined to explore, and no amount of eyebrows lost can deter the thought of that spine-tingling rush.
-Documentaries: You may laugh but it is a genuine like. Not because he actually likes them, but merely because it is a moment to just forget. To let go of the world around you and drone out to nothing. Live in a sea of white noise with a soothing female voice for an hour at the end of a rough day.
-H-2-H training: Namely in that it keeps him healthy. The feeling of a resting heart rate at 40 b.p.m. is amazing.
-Cybertronian technology: They represent a newfound branch of knowledge and wonderment unavailable to the mortal world. Like what video games did to humanity the first it came to the consumer, or sliced bread. Then again they must have their own levels of maths and that is its own headaches of learning.
Dislikes:
-Police: While not totally at odds with the 5-0. The sheer amount of encounters he’s had to put up with from the “dangerous lights and noises” has caused him to up and move his business to inconvenienced places, namely out of walking distance to the local strip clubBible store for all his holy needs!
-Bureaucracy: Oh god, the amount of red-tape in the military and everyday life. Go to city hall to get a business license, go back because you filled out the wrong forms. Find out those forms don't cover everything, go back and wait in line. Can’t even buy thermite without getting on four watch lists. Good thing junkyards have plentiful supplies of iron oxide and aluminum.
-When gizmos/gadgets don't work: Always one problem or another. When a design doesn’t work the world falls apart. Not in that it actually does, but when the problems reveal themselves it's never an easy solution and never only one of them. Especially when as a full-time engineer, complex projects were an ex-girlfriend, never want to see it and it should be killed with fire.
-Undue authority: Odessa is fiercely independant. Those that try to reprimand him or tell him what to do without earned respect will find themselves at the horns of a ram.
-High level math: Cal III, Differential equations, Linear Algebra, Geophysical Fluid Dynamics. Math, Math, Math, the only thing he ever damn well learned in school. Rather - it's not the maths themselves, that easy. It's just numbers performed in different ways. Its that moment when one single numeral, integer, figure, digit, character, symbol, decimal, unit, number is wrong. That one little toothpick that starts off the chain reaction that starts the shit sliding downhill. So much complication. Yeah he can do it, easily, reliably, but… no. The yearning for the day when two plus two was complicated. The pure days before Topology. Summarily, it's not math. It's the complications inherent in it. The little asterisk at the end of the word, Calculus*.
Strengths/Weapons:
-Brilliant mind; Odessa loves to tinker with any and all objects he can get his hands on. He loves to just experiment as a hobby. Always in his workshop devising new ways to explode things.
With the rise of the Transformers, the game. With an ever inquisitive mind. Odessa sees the world as more of a series of available cogs and puzzle-pieces ready to be put together. It’s not a matter of: “What does this do?”, it’s “What can I do with this?”.
-Glorious self control; The military was able to beat at least one boon into him. He is able to control his emotions despite being relatively lost in them. The discipline of control has worn down with time outside of the military.
-Weapons training: Standard military arms training. Nothing all too special, but did go back for additional marksman training; always paranoid of seeing more combat. Then basic Hand-to-Hand combat through the 12 week hell where he learned basic M.A.C. in the army. Moving on from there to try and learn the much more lethal L.I.N.E. system. After leaving the military, the discipline of P.T. waned with each day. No longer having the squaddies to help keep the enthusiasm - the pudge rolls started to form. He took up training at a local M.M.A. gym. While it offered a great deal of combative information it is only designed against other humans, even then designed within a set of rules, rules within a ruleless world.
-Stamina; Again, Military training. That was one thing that did transfer over well into civilian life. The feeling of a strong heart at forty-eight BPM at rest and these sweet abs.
-Cybertronian knowledge: From his access within the government facility. Odessa has gained a strong knowledge of cybertronian metallurgy. Not to it’s fullest extent, but surely much more than the average scientist.
Weaknesses:
-Easily excitable: Odessa is a rather emotional individual that generally sways to the heated spectrum of human emotions. Quick to anger, prone to elation, brisk to hostility, and can be very confrontational. His excitability aren’t locked into the angry side of human psyche, but also into perceived mania. Where he enjoys a good area of relaxed that spikes into being overwhelmed by cute things. Blame a mother that had empty-nest syndrome before he even left the house. Or even into hyper-elation when around friends, ready to start the party.
-Human in a Robot world: yes, yes, yes, I can hear it now, “being a human is not worth enough to put it in weaknesses”. No! That is not why it is listed, but in that he is a human trying to apply human logic, algorithms, and human technique into a world that will see it as obsolete. It is not that he is human that gives weakness, but that his applications of outdated science methodologies that is so far backwards it is ants throwing stones at Goliath. Hopefully, he’ll be able to change his name to David.
-Consumed: When the spark of inspiration strikes. Odessa becomes very single-minded in his endeavors. Attacking a problem or adversary with tenacity. He will look past most other problems as trivialities. Hunger is for the weak, Sleeps for the dead - when his attention is focused.
Special Skills:
-Hand-to-Hand: While not his most prestigious skill, it certainly holds rank over his firearm capabilities.
-Demolitions: Needless to clarify with his choice of vocation.
-Engineering: With the equivalent of a Bachelor's in Mechanical engineering, Odessa continued on in his second reenlistment by taking courses in Chemical, Nuclear, and Aerospace Engineering. Being discharged before he settled his heart on another specialization. Post military - Odessa continued school with his G.I. bill to further his engineering towards a Masters in Mechanical, minoring in Chemical, and moderate class load of Material
Sample RP:
Bombs and booms echoing over head. Shrapnel of metals panging off walls in thunderous chills that meant it got a little too close. Another fine moment of Odessa having placed himself in another fine predicament. An autobot scramble for tactichnology or something or whatever aboard a Cybertronian ship. Rear duty isn’t the most glorious but it can be the most rewarding. While most wanted to be gungho on the front lines, dancing with danger every few seconds. Good ol’ boy Odessa always saw himself a little smarter. For he wasn’t idle in the back lines being protected by a transformium wall. No, they were buying him time! … and yelling incoherent rage into an incomprehensibly complex metal contraption.
“Ayo Odi, how's that machine coming man? We outta time!” One autobot came in combative retreat, firing off shells to some unseen opponent.
“You’re panic is thoroughly noted!” Odessa was huddled over. Messing with wires, stripping some out. Moving glowing, possibly, irradiated objects into the machine. No one on god’s green earth would know what he was up to. It was something that only was known to his mental machinations, looking into his mind would perhaps seem like a Lovecraftian dream. “Just gimme five minutes!”
“You wanted five minutes, five minutes ago!” The bot fired off a few more shells down a corridor.
“Then - give - me - five - more!” Odessa called back, scrambling to move pieces into the right places. This wasn’t a time to be arguing but a time for action. Action it was going to be. He had just the idea! Ripping apart parts from the cybertronian machinery around him. Scrambling around the room for every individual part he could find useful. Ok, high-capacity battery, wiring, decepticon, Decepticon?! It was a small little bot, about the size of a human arm. Two arms and a long tail. Odessa was appropriately startled, but not by the bot itself, but by that it was now strangling him. Now they tangled around the room in struggle for superiority. Clawing at the tail wrapped around the neck. Stumbling around the room and knocking things everywhere. He gasped for air.
Unable to get any breathing room. An arm flailed around for any object he could use. Who knew a crowbar could be a knife. Stabbing at the scorpion bot gave enough leeway for a single breath. Prying the bot bot off of him gave him a moment's respite to chose the next action. The crowbar was tempting, but the rush of adrenaline threw that idea out the window. No, Odessa grabbed both of the bot’s arms in firm grip and ripped the bot into two. Finishing by spinning the damned thing by the tail, whipping it into the floor.
He rushed back to his gizmometer. Applying every last bit of necessity. Cranking bolts, twisting wires.
“Ha! I got it!”
“You got it? Does it work?” Odessa lifted a long machine off the floor. Half as long as his body. With a flick of a switch, lights and motors came to life. A loud buzzing sound revving up the hertz with the trigger slammed down.
“I have no idea!” He came around the corner. “Particle Projector Cannooooooooooooooooon!” Then a deafening blast of a release of energy followed by a trail of electric hissing. A bright white ball of super-energetic hate flew threw the hallway of the cybertronian ship. Indiscriminately tearing apart any poor souark that just so happened to find itself in front of that ball. Putting a hole clean through two large Decepticons. The recoil itself pulled the weapon from his grips. Damn near ripping an arm off.
“What the gunk Odessa?! You almost took out our own Autobots!?”
“Yeah! But is you dead though?!” He was obviously proud of himself. Moving to pick up the gun. It laid hissing on the ground in all of its technological glory. Hell he was unsure if it was even going to be capable of firing again, BUT WE GON’ LEARN TODAY. He took off marching to the frontlines. “Particle Projector Cannooooooooooooooooon!”
Name/Alias: Hex
IM/Email: PM to communicate
Age: Legal
Where did you find us?: Google
CHARACTER INFO
Name: Odessa K. Kerrick
Alias: Odi, Des, Dessy, 'Dessa
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Faction: Civilian
Original Occupation:
-Military Combat Engineer
-Military Engineer
Occupation/Specialization:
-Engineer/Tinkerer
-Junk-yard owner
-Pawn Shop operator
Appearance:
Most would find Odessa a man of unappealing features. Bland, normal, boring, sloppy and to that that fashion he is. A retired military man who has traveled the world and learned an incredibly relaxed attitude to the world. His hair is no longer as kept, the bed corners are never folded neatly, and off in the distance you can vaguely hear Drill Sergeants screaming.
The face is ever so dainty. Somehow upkept without any effort. The genetic lottery blessed this boy. While not absolutely handsome, there is a distinct lack of acne scarring or glasses that cause so many first world problems. He holds dark blue eyes with contrasting brown brow. His hair is kept in a wild, yet contained, shortened manner. No longer adhering to the buzz cuts of the years past, but could never really find himself in longer hair styles. It is a brown mess that many would be ashamed to have, but it suits him just fine with such a relaxed look. Two distinct features count for scars. A white line of scar tissue starts at the center of his bottom lip and edges ever so slightly towards the middle of his left jaw-line from a recoiling razor wire. The second being a chunk of missing right ear caught by a stray bullet.
His choice in apparel is likewise… bad. Usually sloppy. Not nasty kinds of sloppy, but the kind a child would like to wear to church. Sometimes camo, sometimes plaid, always cargo and usually an oil stained work-shirt to accompany. Only resorting to hardier clothes in the winter months and usually not even then. A lover of the cold, Odessa has a rather strong tolerance to the cold, note that as tolerance and not immunity. Drawing strange glances as he enters stores with a hoodie and shorts in three-inches of snow.
The form is standing strong at a meager six-foot-one-inch. Falling just past the finish line of what many considered the king of manlets. The rest of his fills out to what's easily stereotypical of the modern-mil-man. Low percent body fat with strong amounts of muscle and fairly identifiable lines if not “cut”. That image was always a nasty one, and far too much to maintain. He's more than content with just the teasing formation of a six-pack. Hes strong nonetheless, more than used to the twelve hour work days of constant movement. Compounded by moving materials all around the junkyard. The face is smooth even babyfaced in a manner. Betraying his age that he’s constantly asked for I.D. even as he approaches the dreaded Thirty. At least acne was never a problem.
His skin is clear and quite caucasian. Not the likes to instantly burn under the sun, he was born under the burning sun of the wet-soup south after all, but noticeably white. So much so someone could even make guesses about his dance moves from the look of it. Not one to be pocked with blemishes, but pocked with natural destruction of time. As in the seldom burn marks from a rogue acid splash or the bite of barbed wire without proper protection.
Altmode:
History:
Born below the bible belt in the swamps of Louisiana. Odessa was born to two generous and loving thumping parents. Largely, his early childhood was uneventful. Never so much bullied, never so much starving or abused. He did had one odd quirk of a trait, He liked to ‘make’ things and ‘experiment’, in his words at least. Lego blocks were the bees knees. Random piles of wood were bliss. K’nex was the awesome. He wasn’t some prodigy or psion. Never once did he actually make anything worthwhile or useful. His little creations were that of the child’s rampant imagination. At least he knew his calling early in life.
For the most part this will be skimmed over until his eighteenth birthday. It was a joyous day, that moment where not twenty minutes before the kid had to raise their hand to go to the bathroom and now they're being asked what they want to do for the rest of their life. Odessa’s parents were smiling on their way to forcing him to go to college, but in this economy?! No, no, no amount of Best Buy wages or waiting tips could pay for everything! So he followed suit with many other illiterates of his time and picked up a rifle for the grunts. His idea was sound in the very least. Serve duty, get money, get edumakashuns, and hopefully come out a better man. The front lines never scared him. After all, dying was easy, that was the end. There were no more bills, no more need for food, and you got to party with Jesus, Allah, Buddha, whoever was there. All-in-all a rather good deal. No, he was afraid of surviving, more appropriately, surviving after being mangled. At the opposite end of the spectrum he neither wanted to be a desk jockey upwards of ten years.
So why not a mix? Something Elite! Not on the front lines and not behind a desk, all specialty. A lot easier to imagine. Odessa passed his evaluations rather gloriously. Scoring an eighty-seven on his ASVAB, even passing through Army Rangers tests with competence. Wasn’t enough however as many others did as well. Relegating him back to rank and file. Ok, second option! Combat Engineer!
If he couldn’t be elite, he could at least blow stuff up still. From Engineering schools he learned many arts of Engineering. The act of dismantling test-bombs reawakened that primal childhood of Odessa that came with the K’nex kits he’d receive through many Christmases. Foregoing the idea of joining the elite with the idea of making anything he could imagine. He took to the act of creation like a protoform to it’s first energon. Little did he know that his dreams weren't meant to be dreams on this path. Excitement overtook discipline as he pinned his name in for Mechanical Engineering classes, then boredom. Always held up with a “WHEN WE GONNA MAKE SHIT?” mentality that drop to desperation.
Still, he was wholly fulfilled in his desires, building traps and compiling anti-everything mines. Even getting rocks off through firefights. That wasn’t ideal, but luckily they were few and far between. Overall, most of his military time was spent Sapping and prorapping. He graduated through the ranks, ending at E-5 Sergeant through his first enlistment. His send enlistment came quick and easy to resign. Ending his tours less on the lines and more assisting with projects that courted his use of his engineering degree in designing weapons and vehicles. Gaining the next rank of E-6 soon after. Catching the eyes of the brass around him. Having gained their from his mechanical brilliance. The Colonel himself came down from his posh office to entice Odessa with the fabled O-1 that came with a few stipulations. Why not?!
Odessa was privy to knowing some things the rest of the world didn’t. He was chosen along with many others to apply their skills to a secret project, given appropriate top-secret clearance to go along with it. So damn secret that most of the personnel of it were kept in the dark on it. Strange that even with his new clearance that there were still few things he could be told. Even the project leaders only had slivers of knowledge. All they had to go off of was some giant slab of recovered metal with properties unknown to humankind.
Within the depths of some high security military installation, men in black suits dropped down a large slab of mystery metal with only one word, study. Why would just a hunk of metal get the brasses rocks off? Of well, they sign the checks. Might as well “study” it. It was an appropriate weight for it’s size. Audibly, hmm yes, very metal. Chemical treatment, wait what? The metal had reacted very strangely to chemical washes. Completely opposite of expected results. Grinders having no effect. What the hell did central send them? It wasn’t able to survive a plasma torch though. That's why there was so much hush hush about it. Upper echelon wanted to know what this metal was. This wasn’t human made and why it needed to be so secret, this was well outside the realm of current material science. It intrigued and amazed. Holding strange properties. This slab alone could’ve advanced human understanding by untold amounts. People came and went from the projected, shifted onto others, Odessa was one of the few kept long term on the project. Unfortunately all things must end and for some strange reason, the brass withdrew the metal, and the purpose to live. He was allowed to keep the rank of O-2 to keep his mouth shut at the least.
He was then re-injected back into the grunt-life. Ultimate sadness, no doubt one of the best paychecks every gotten and actually interesting work. Shame that he can't talk about it for the next twenty-five or so years. He tried to adapt as best he would back to the normal life , setting up barricades, dismantling explosives, mantling explosives, dying of boredom. Then the big hit, a DD 214. Reasoning being a lack of funding, yeah sure ok fine thats cool whatever.
The future beyond was still somewhat bright. Having the equivalent of a Bachelor’s in Mechanical engineering allowed ease of access to slide into most Universities along with proper G.I. bill greasing the wheels. College life was hard to adjust to. Sitting around these classes with the babies. Careful, step lightly or you might hurt someone. Then there was the party life. Oh god did Odessa ever unwind. Difficult at first, but usually becoming the life of the party after a few Jaeger bombs. The years of military servitude washed away through an ethical cleansing of the lords liquor, Hallelujah, blessed be his name, Saint Hein. A strong mind allowed the indoctrination of military cadence to erode away over the following years. He graduated by testing-out of inane classes and breezing through more advanced ones. He was inspired to succeed now after all. Taking as much of a class load as he could without fracturing the mind.
He graduated with masters in Mechanical, minor in Chemical, moderate class loads of Material. Of course that all goes to shit when you end up running a Junkyard with attached Pawn Shop doesn’t it!?
Personality:
How happy the MEPS test would’ve loved this information. So much easier to know someone than taking a battery of test. Perhaps wouldn't had let the firecracker of Odessa anywhere close to the explosives.
He is brash, headstrong, unrelenting, an asshole, and yet your best friend.
Through his brashness, he sharpens horns with which to ram things with. He is a largely individualistic individual or rather that he came into his own. Contrary to what was beaten into his head in bootcamp to always look to your brothers and sisters. Leaving the rank and file allowed him to spread his wings. He came to find his own personality becoming stronger over time and thusly found himself as his own being. This gives him a strong sense of self and likewise, strong self-esteem. It has been reinforced in the nature of conflict with those around him. As he grew to become his own, many around him have tried to give their a piece of their mind. Leading to a bucking of ideals as he stood up for his own. Naturally this conflicted with the police. Luckily he’d have much experience being with M.P.s so the pride can easily be swallowed. No matter how bitter it is.
Pride can be both a boon in small amounts. Odessa swells with a hardened pride in himself from his accomplishments. His pride revolves along a spectrum of what he’s done more than himself in general. So that it while he comes off as an asshole sometimes, he thoroughly doesn’t mean it. It’ll slip somewhat into
At the opposite is a serene calmness. Strange. Then again when you have to pacify yourself for hours a day doing nothing the options are to occupy yourself or learn to live with it. The capability of being able to just live in silence with yourself is a skill not many have, but one born out of necessity. Who knows how many Grunt lives would’ve been lost over the sheer amount of monotony. Still, he appears as a chilled man with a short fuze.
Always excitable, Odessa exists with a short fuze that seeks out the thrills that come attached with life. In so he is insatiable. Eager to find out the next best thing whether it be personal excitement or his desire to create something he's had his mind on for a while. He is quick to tunnel in on what interests him. Attacking it with bull ferocity. He is unrelenting to the point of insanity. Gained while on active duty and either a specific activity to occupy the self, or watching paint dry.
But he is not stupid. While not exactly one to think too far into the future of his actions he is one to know when to back down. To know when to cut the losses and make a run for it. As few and far between these moments are, it's usually only in the face of danger, as the seesaw of pride versus common sense is weighed against with a 10 ton slab.
Keep the liquor away. There is a party animal chained away before several bottles of Jaeger. Combined with his easily excitable persona and desire to seek it, Odessa can quickly become the life of a party.
Is there was any picture to ever thoroughly capture Odessa’s essence, that would be easily:
i.imgur.com/ixqw8Hg.png
Likes:
-His job: His method of work puts him in quiet positions with relatively low overhead, a solid, but not necessarily good paycheck, and low social interaction. Needless to say, it makes everyday a quiet day.
-Video games: Good ole’ PC master-race to unwind at the end of the day.
-Creation: Tinkering away at anything new. Push the letter of science! No officer, thats not a singularity under that tarp! Creation encompasses such a wide term, but mainly his method of creation boils down to two things. The purest of sciences that we understand to coincide with the term “creation”, and secondly using scraps to build little scrap metal arts. Such as a tiny tin man or a little dog. Just one of the ways to bide the attention span.
-Adrenal Junkie: generally the ignition to his excitable personality. Odessa sets out to get his gears pumping and that engine revving. Nothing is off limits, no science to undefined to explore, and no amount of eyebrows lost can deter the thought of that spine-tingling rush.
-Documentaries: You may laugh but it is a genuine like. Not because he actually likes them, but merely because it is a moment to just forget. To let go of the world around you and drone out to nothing. Live in a sea of white noise with a soothing female voice for an hour at the end of a rough day.
-H-2-H training: Namely in that it keeps him healthy. The feeling of a resting heart rate at 40 b.p.m. is amazing.
-Cybertronian technology: They represent a newfound branch of knowledge and wonderment unavailable to the mortal world. Like what video games did to humanity the first it came to the consumer, or sliced bread. Then again they must have their own levels of maths and that is its own headaches of learning.
Dislikes:
-Police: While not totally at odds with the 5-0. The sheer amount of encounters he’s had to put up with from the “dangerous lights and noises” has caused him to up and move his business to inconvenienced places, namely out of walking distance to the local strip clubBible store for all his holy needs!
-Bureaucracy: Oh god, the amount of red-tape in the military and everyday life. Go to city hall to get a business license, go back because you filled out the wrong forms. Find out those forms don't cover everything, go back and wait in line. Can’t even buy thermite without getting on four watch lists. Good thing junkyards have plentiful supplies of iron oxide and aluminum.
-When gizmos/gadgets don't work: Always one problem or another. When a design doesn’t work the world falls apart. Not in that it actually does, but when the problems reveal themselves it's never an easy solution and never only one of them. Especially when as a full-time engineer, complex projects were an ex-girlfriend, never want to see it and it should be killed with fire.
-Undue authority: Odessa is fiercely independant. Those that try to reprimand him or tell him what to do without earned respect will find themselves at the horns of a ram.
-High level math: Cal III, Differential equations, Linear Algebra, Geophysical Fluid Dynamics. Math, Math, Math, the only thing he ever damn well learned in school. Rather - it's not the maths themselves, that easy. It's just numbers performed in different ways. Its that moment when one single numeral, integer, figure, digit, character, symbol, decimal, unit, number is wrong. That one little toothpick that starts off the chain reaction that starts the shit sliding downhill. So much complication. Yeah he can do it, easily, reliably, but… no. The yearning for the day when two plus two was complicated. The pure days before Topology. Summarily, it's not math. It's the complications inherent in it. The little asterisk at the end of the word, Calculus*.
Strengths/Weapons:
-Brilliant mind; Odessa loves to tinker with any and all objects he can get his hands on. He loves to just experiment as a hobby. Always in his workshop devising new ways to explode things.
With the rise of the Transformers, the game. With an ever inquisitive mind. Odessa sees the world as more of a series of available cogs and puzzle-pieces ready to be put together. It’s not a matter of: “What does this do?”, it’s “What can I do with this?”.
-Glorious self control; The military was able to beat at least one boon into him. He is able to control his emotions despite being relatively lost in them. The discipline of control has worn down with time outside of the military.
-Weapons training: Standard military arms training. Nothing all too special, but did go back for additional marksman training; always paranoid of seeing more combat. Then basic Hand-to-Hand combat through the 12 week hell where he learned basic M.A.C. in the army. Moving on from there to try and learn the much more lethal L.I.N.E. system. After leaving the military, the discipline of P.T. waned with each day. No longer having the squaddies to help keep the enthusiasm - the pudge rolls started to form. He took up training at a local M.M.A. gym. While it offered a great deal of combative information it is only designed against other humans, even then designed within a set of rules, rules within a ruleless world.
-Stamina; Again, Military training. That was one thing that did transfer over well into civilian life. The feeling of a strong heart at forty-eight BPM at rest and these sweet abs.
-Cybertronian knowledge: From his access within the government facility. Odessa has gained a strong knowledge of cybertronian metallurgy. Not to it’s fullest extent, but surely much more than the average scientist.
Weaknesses:
-Easily excitable: Odessa is a rather emotional individual that generally sways to the heated spectrum of human emotions. Quick to anger, prone to elation, brisk to hostility, and can be very confrontational. His excitability aren’t locked into the angry side of human psyche, but also into perceived mania. Where he enjoys a good area of relaxed that spikes into being overwhelmed by cute things. Blame a mother that had empty-nest syndrome before he even left the house. Or even into hyper-elation when around friends, ready to start the party.
-Human in a Robot world: yes, yes, yes, I can hear it now, “being a human is not worth enough to put it in weaknesses”. No! That is not why it is listed, but in that he is a human trying to apply human logic, algorithms, and human technique into a world that will see it as obsolete. It is not that he is human that gives weakness, but that his applications of outdated science methodologies that is so far backwards it is ants throwing stones at Goliath. Hopefully, he’ll be able to change his name to David.
-Consumed: When the spark of inspiration strikes. Odessa becomes very single-minded in his endeavors. Attacking a problem or adversary with tenacity. He will look past most other problems as trivialities. Hunger is for the weak, Sleeps for the dead - when his attention is focused.
Special Skills:
-Hand-to-Hand: While not his most prestigious skill, it certainly holds rank over his firearm capabilities.
-Demolitions: Needless to clarify with his choice of vocation.
-Engineering: With the equivalent of a Bachelor's in Mechanical engineering, Odessa continued on in his second reenlistment by taking courses in Chemical, Nuclear, and Aerospace Engineering. Being discharged before he settled his heart on another specialization. Post military - Odessa continued school with his G.I. bill to further his engineering towards a Masters in Mechanical, minoring in Chemical, and moderate class load of Material
Sample RP:
Bombs and booms echoing over head. Shrapnel of metals panging off walls in thunderous chills that meant it got a little too close. Another fine moment of Odessa having placed himself in another fine predicament. An autobot scramble for tactichnology or something or whatever aboard a Cybertronian ship. Rear duty isn’t the most glorious but it can be the most rewarding. While most wanted to be gungho on the front lines, dancing with danger every few seconds. Good ol’ boy Odessa always saw himself a little smarter. For he wasn’t idle in the back lines being protected by a transformium wall. No, they were buying him time! … and yelling incoherent rage into an incomprehensibly complex metal contraption.
“Ayo Odi, how's that machine coming man? We outta time!” One autobot came in combative retreat, firing off shells to some unseen opponent.
“You’re panic is thoroughly noted!” Odessa was huddled over. Messing with wires, stripping some out. Moving glowing, possibly, irradiated objects into the machine. No one on god’s green earth would know what he was up to. It was something that only was known to his mental machinations, looking into his mind would perhaps seem like a Lovecraftian dream. “Just gimme five minutes!”
“You wanted five minutes, five minutes ago!” The bot fired off a few more shells down a corridor.
“Then - give - me - five - more!” Odessa called back, scrambling to move pieces into the right places. This wasn’t a time to be arguing but a time for action. Action it was going to be. He had just the idea! Ripping apart parts from the cybertronian machinery around him. Scrambling around the room for every individual part he could find useful. Ok, high-capacity battery, wiring, decepticon, Decepticon?! It was a small little bot, about the size of a human arm. Two arms and a long tail. Odessa was appropriately startled, but not by the bot itself, but by that it was now strangling him. Now they tangled around the room in struggle for superiority. Clawing at the tail wrapped around the neck. Stumbling around the room and knocking things everywhere. He gasped for air.
Unable to get any breathing room. An arm flailed around for any object he could use. Who knew a crowbar could be a knife. Stabbing at the scorpion bot gave enough leeway for a single breath. Prying the bot bot off of him gave him a moment's respite to chose the next action. The crowbar was tempting, but the rush of adrenaline threw that idea out the window. No, Odessa grabbed both of the bot’s arms in firm grip and ripped the bot into two. Finishing by spinning the damned thing by the tail, whipping it into the floor.
He rushed back to his gizmometer. Applying every last bit of necessity. Cranking bolts, twisting wires.
“Ha! I got it!”
“You got it? Does it work?” Odessa lifted a long machine off the floor. Half as long as his body. With a flick of a switch, lights and motors came to life. A loud buzzing sound revving up the hertz with the trigger slammed down.
“I have no idea!” He came around the corner. “Particle Projector Cannooooooooooooooooon!” Then a deafening blast of a release of energy followed by a trail of electric hissing. A bright white ball of super-energetic hate flew threw the hallway of the cybertronian ship. Indiscriminately tearing apart any poor souark that just so happened to find itself in front of that ball. Putting a hole clean through two large Decepticons. The recoil itself pulled the weapon from his grips. Damn near ripping an arm off.
“What the gunk Odessa?! You almost took out our own Autobots!?”
“Yeah! But is you dead though?!” He was obviously proud of himself. Moving to pick up the gun. It laid hissing on the ground in all of its technological glory. Hell he was unsure if it was even going to be capable of firing again, BUT WE GON’ LEARN TODAY. He took off marching to the frontlines. “Particle Projector Cannooooooooooooooooon!”